


Sleepwalk

by SophusMao



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Blood Magic, Demons, Drama, Hawke and Fenris need to talk, M/M, Qunari siege, Romance, Sleepwalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-28 22:42:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11427768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophusMao/pseuds/SophusMao
Summary: After the siege on Kirkwall, everyone tries to pick themselves up and move on.Fenris can't bring himself to look in Hawke's eyes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello :)
> 
> I wrote this in 2015 originally. It has been edited to the best of my ability and I hope you like it :)

It was the night after the siege on Kirkwall from the Qunari. Hawke was now Champion of Kirkwall and the rebuilding of their favourite haunts was underway. Hawke was resting a swollen foot and broken arm in a chair, but he used this position to delegate the cleaning of the Hanged Man, much to Varric's ire. Drinks were flowing freely from the bartender as thanks for not only saving the city, but for helping with the restoration of his bar. Many patrons had had the same idea and were busy righting tables and throwing out unusable shards of furniture, broken cups, and bodies of the less fortunate. It was grim work, but after the buzz of the alcohol reared its head, it got a little easier, even if it was taking a long time.

Fenris and Aveline chaffed under their heavy armour, unwilling to remove it, "just in case", Aveline had said. Hawke had rolled his fiery eyes but let it pass, comfortable in his loose cotton clothes. Merrill and Anders were arguing over the positioning of the new furniture and the decoration. The bar tender had assured them that center pieces of flowers were unnecessary and would, in fact, muddy the already seedy reputation of the Hanged Man. Varric and Isabela had barked a laugh at that and hurriedly followed the mages around, altering what they had done so that it looked just the same as it had done before the siege.

Kirkwall had taken a lot of damage from the Qunari and the people trying to defend themselves, houses had been burnt to the ground, shattering holes were in the mortar, and cracks were in the stone. People had died on both sides of the fights that had taken over the entire city; entire families had been eradicated without discrimination if they didn't decide to convert. As always, the poor had taken the brunt of it, the rich and important had been abducted and taken to the Viscount's throne room where even more damage has to been taken care of. Not only materialistically, but politically after the death of the Viscount at the hands of the Arishok. All over a  _book_. Granted, it was a very important book in the Qunari's eyes, the Tome of Koslun, that had been stolen by the pirate in their midst and then stolen again. It would take years for the damage to be reversed, deaths to be grieved, injuries to heal, and a new leader would have to be appointed.

Isabela had returned the Tome, hoping that would be the end of her years of running from the Qun, but the Arishok demanded justice. She had committed a crime against the Qunari and would be judged by them. The Arishok had spoken to only Hawke deciding him to be  _basalit-an_  – worthy of respect. Hawke had decided to fight the Arishok for the pirates freedom, the room had scattered, the majority of the nobles hiding behind Hawke's team as they looked on in awe. The Arishok was much stronger than Hawke, his height and broadness dwarfed the man, his axe was the size of his foe as he held it negligently in one hand. Hawke got into his stance, pulling his staff from his back and tapping the butt of it against the marble ground. The staff ignited, and the fight began.

It had been long and gruelling, the Arishok was winning by sheer force and Hawke's willpower was failing him. Fenris and Isabela had tried to run forward to help. Screaming at him to get up and win, but they were held back by the Antam. The axe fell, its decent sending a winded whistle through the suddenly silent room. Fenris shut his eyes, unwilling to watch, as the others could not look away.

And then, there was a sudden slow dragging feeling, warm air was pulled toward the fight, leaving the room in a cold shadow. A metallic tang hit them, and the team watched Hawke drag a bloody finger across his face as a red glow surrounded him. Merrill and Anders gasped and Fenris felt sick.

Hawke stood and finished the Arishok with sudden power and speed. Blood magic had won the fight.

Fenris looked over at Hawke as he finished setting a chair straight. He didn't seem any different, still his smiling snarky self, his arm propped up as he waited for the bone to finish setting under the watchful eye of Anders, his foot perched on a table, a cup of ale poised at his mouth as he listened to Merrill chirp at him. The only thing that had changed was his eyes, they seemed darker somehow, and the fiery amber seemed redder.  _Older._  The eyes met his and he shivered, turning away quickly.

Hawke had stepped over a line, a line that Fenris was sure he wouldn't be able to come back over from. He felt bad that he had turned away but he just couldn't look at him. His confidence had been shaken and he was worried that he had been right all along, all mages are the same. They all seek out demons eventually; they all become corrupt from the lure of more power. Merrill had, Anders had, and now Hawke too. It hurt, a burning feeling in his chest that bubbled and roiled, a blurred sound bounced around his skull, and a sticky lump was stuck at the back of his throat. He felt like crying, bawling on the ground and slamming his fists like a child. The one person he completely trusted, his best friend and lover, had proven his greatest worry right.

What else annoyed him was the fact that no one else seemed disturbed by this. Merrill was practically bouncing with joy at the thought of someone else being like her, she chirruped away about that blasted mirror, Anders shrugged his shoulders and shook his head; his mouth drawn in a thin line but he ultimately and _simply_ carried on, and the others hadn't reacted one way or another. He could tell that at least Aveline wasn’t completely comfortable, but no one was saying anything! How could they not  _see!?_ How could they not see that everything was different now? That Hawke was different? Fenris wanted to turn away and run and keep running until Kirkwall was a distant memory, his friends were a distant memory, Hawke was…

But no, he would stay. He would stay to protect the people of Kirkwall from the demon Hawke may become. He would be powerful, unstoppable, and if he died stopping him, it would be better than living without him. He scowled as he slammed a chair down onto its four legs with more force than necessary; drawing attention from those around him. He scowled harder.

 

 

They all finished up after a few more hours of hard work and began to file out the door to head up to Hightown, Hawke's mansion had been raided during the night and it seemed best to stick together until the city folk had settled. People were still rioting and causing havoc even as they walked up the long staircase that led to the markets. Fenris watched Hawke's back as he was carried between Aveline and Anders, and orange eyes glanced back at him with a frown. Pools of hurt swam there, sadness and worry, because Fenris had turned away or because Hawke regretted his choices?

A wave of guilt and worry flooded over the elf, he didn't want to hurt Hawke, he couldn't. Blood magic had left a scar inside Fenris that had been ripped anew when Hawke had resorted to it, he couldn't find a way to look past it. He couldn’t hurt Hawke. But, right now, he didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t come to terms with what his lover had done. He shivered at memory of Hawke brushing his own blood over his face and moving at an unnatural speed as the Arishok stood frozen. He couldn’t face the turmoil inside him.

They entered the Hawke-Amell estate, the foyer was a mess with papers and furniture strewn around. Hawke groaned as he bent and picked up a portrait of his mother, returning it to its pride of place on the wall above the bench that Fenris had sat on many times. The likeness was amazing, grey eyes smiled down at them even if that smile was not evident on pastel pink lips. He missed her, they all did, her gentle humming would fill the estate as she baked or read. It was quiet and cold without her here.

Without a word, everyone began cleaning, the dwarves and elf girl Hawke had rescued and hired had done their best but it seemed they were still shaken from last night. They had hidden in the underground passageway that led to Anders' clinic with Luca the dog when the Qunari had broken in. Hawke waved them away to bed with a quiet word and a smile.

"We'll do this."

"But, sir-"

He held up his hands, "No, no! I insist; you've all done too much, rest."

His household nodded and waved goodnight. The dwarf's rooms were in the cellar, a large old wine room that Hawke had converted for their comfort as they had a slight preference to sleeping underground. Orana had her rooms at the end of a long corridor on the second floor; it was large but cosy, filled with things that she had proudly bought herself with her wages.

They settled on neatening things up as best they could, some furniture and possessions would need to be replaced, the fire place was lit and the warm glow cast shadows on the mess, making it seem worse than it was. Hawke hobbled into the kitchen and grimaced at the mess; he fumbled in various cupboards and re-emerged with glasses for all and a large bottle of red Antivan wine. They settled around the fire, Hawke sat heavily in a large chair with Isabela sat opposite him shuffling a deck of Wicked Grace. Merrill settled down with Luca next to the hearth and sipped at her cup, Varric pulled out his notes from the depths of one of his large pockets and began scribbling, Anders sat beside him and perused them over his shoulder, Aveline removed her chest plate, settled on a pillow and warmed her hands in the orange glow.

Hawke watched Fenris as he fumbled for a place to sit, he knew Fenris was not pleased with the way things had gone last night, but what else could he have done? Die? He remembered the axe whistling as it fell, and then everything seemed to slow down. His father's voice filled his ears and offered him help; all he had to do was connect with him, using his blood as a vessel for power. He needed it; he was too weak and too scared to die. He sacrificed his morals and took the power from the demon, smearing his blood over his face and letting it feast from it. In return the demon killed the Arishok. He knew his friends would not approve, especially Fenris, but he reasoned that they would be happy he was alive. Wouldn’t they?

It seemed he was wrong as he remembered the shiver Fenris had sent him when they had finally made eye contact. They pitying looks he received from the others.  
It hurt; it hurt that all the years they had spent together, all the years they had used to build trust was easy enough to break from one slip.

He watched as Fenris frowned and sat in a free space on the floor, his head resting against the arm of the chair that he was sat on and took a large gulp of wine.  _At least he wasn't so repulsed by me that he'll sit nearby._  It was better than watching him sit on the other side of the room like he feared he would.

After a few rounds of Wicked Grace and a happy buzz had filled everyone's heads from the alcohol, people started turning in for the night. The guest rooms would be full, much to Orana's delight, Luca followed Merrill to her room for the night and the others filed into separate rooms along the top floor corridor. Hawke and Fenris sat together before the fire in an awkward silence, they knew things had to be said but both would've preferred to ignore it and pretend the situation had never settled over them.

Fenris huffed as he stood gracefully, "Goodnight, Hawke" and he started to walk away.

"Fenris, please…"

"No Hawke, I need…I need some time alone to think" He looked over his shoulder at the mage's crestfallen expression; his shoulders were slumped in defeat, his knuckles white on the arm of his chair. Hawke's amber eyes reflected the fire, the glow mocking his sad face. Fenris turned and carried on walking toward his room.

"I love you." Hawke whispered and Fenris ignored it.

Hawke lay restless in his too large bed. The red sheets felt itchy and cold, the large window showed the frost settling over Kirkwall as winter began to settle in. It was a sight he would normally share with Fenris as the elf would smile, snow would arrive soon, and Fenris did love the snow. They would sit on the balcony overlooking the garden and watch it glitter, warm in their blankets and sharing a bottle of rich warm wine. They would talk about random things, nothing from the past or wounds they had suffered, just things. They would laugh and kiss under the stars that made the frost shine on plants and trees, turning them as silver-white as Fenris' hair.

Hawke buried his face beneath his sheets and wished deeply that he hadn't resorted to blood magic. He wished he had just let the axe fall. He would've died but at least he would've died with his morals intact. At least he would’ve died with Fenris not hating him.  
He would've died not knowing the power and feeling the tug of it ever since; the call of the demons and spirits taunting him and offering him more and more. Promising they'll change Fenris' mind, make him see that it wasn't so bad, that he had made the right choice in fighting for his life with a little help.

Oh Maker, the power. The swell of it had filled every inch of him, made everything shine with clarity, he knew he would've been able to do anything under its influence. He could have flattened the Keep and everyone in it if he was that way inclined, he could have marched against any army alone, made anyone love him completely, brought back his family from the Fade. He groaned and covered his ears; the demons had their fingers wrapped around his mind.

_I could just give in. Let them have me…_ a bang from somewhere in his house had him sitting upright in a millisecond. He could hear a faint shuffling and a small bump. Hawke's brow furrowed as he got out of bed and made his way to the door, cracking it open slightly to hopefully see something. If he could handle it himself, he would, he didn't want to wake the household up for something that might simply be a mouse. He shivered;  _please don't let it be a mouse._  Unfortunately, he couldn't see anything of note, there was a gentle orange glow from the dying embers in the fireplace, but no shadows that could help him pinpoint the source of the shuffling.

He took a breath and quietly exited his room. The shuffling was on the floor above him as small thumps echoed overhead. He quickly walked to the stairs, worried that something sinister had made its way in and was quietly killing of his friends. Assassins would not be a surprise, killing his friends would leave him weak, an easy target. He didn't bring a torch so that he didn't bring any attention, so he trusted his sight in the moonlight that poured into the corridor through large stained glass windows. He caught a glimpse of a black shadow exiting the corridor through a door on the other side, at least 40-50 feet away, not worth the risk from a fireball.

_Have they finished their job?_ He squared his shoulders and prepared himself for what he would see when he opened the door to Aveline's room. He gently pressed the handle down and slowly pushed the door open. Her fireplace was lit as he poked his head through the gap and breathed a sigh of relief. She was sat up in bed reading a book she had pilfered from the library.

"Are you okay, Hawke?" She questioned with a brow cocked.

He slid his fingers through his shaggy red hair, "Uh, yeah? Have you heard anything…weird?"

She shook her head, he nodded his thanks and shut the door.  _Maybe it is just someone getting some water or using the bathroom?_  Not willing to risk a possible intruder, he followed the shadow he had seen earlier. The spiral stairs lead to the kitchens, there were no windows and it was dark. A darkness he cursed and he bumped his thigh on a low table. He couldn't hear the shuffling so he made his way to the dining room.

He saw a figure walking slowly and slightly slumped over. Whoever it was hadn't noticed him just yet and he used it to his advantage, he got on his hands and knees and slipped underneath the long dining table. He moved up it to where he could see the legs of the person shuffling. They were mumbling to themselves.

"Fenris?" He carefully came out from underneath the table and stood beside the elf. Fenris' eyes were shut, his mouth slack as he mumbled to himself, "Are you asleep?" Hawke waved his hands in front of his face but Fenris didn't react. He was sleepwalking.

Hawke held back a laugh for fear of waking him; he remembered his mother had once told him never to wake a sleepwalker after they had discovered Carver doing it when they were kids. Instead, he followed him around, saving vases and mirrors as Fenris bumped into them, and gently directed him toward the stairs that lead to his bedroom.

The stairs were and issue as the elf stubbed his toes and tripped at every other step, Hawke walked behind him so he didn't fall down, and then gently turned him toward the master bedroom at the top.

Fenris grunted at the creak the door made when Hawke pushed it open but made no indication that he was waking up. Hawke helped him into bed, tucking the sheets around his restless from and then crawled into the other side. He shut his eyes and decided he'd deal with the elf's fury in the morning. Fenris would probably wake in a panic and take it out on him, and Hawke would take it for one more night of him in his bed. Fenris shuffled in his sleep and his head found the hollow in Hawke's shoulder and settled there, his breath ghosted over Hawke's chest and made the mage smile.

"Aiden..?"

"Hmm?"

There was no answer as Fenris fell into a deep slumber, his arm lay gently on Hawke's stomach and his soft hair brushing his chin.

_Yeah, I'll definitely deal with this in the morning_

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Sexual content from the get go but only for a couple paragraphs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only chapter I had planned for this but as I was editing, it ended with the option of carrying on into another. Let me know if you would like another chapter.
> 
> The original chapter for this is up on ff.net and it was wildly different at the end, so if you'd like to read the original, check it out. I'm under the same name there :)

Hawke threw his head back as Fenris sat atop him, his slim hands curled in his chest hair and pulled gently as a small gasp left him. The elf was tight and warm and _oh_ so soft. His strong thighs gripped the mages hips as he began to move, slow a first until a rhythm kicked in and the soft sounds of skin on skin were barely masked by the grunts and growls.

  
This was the best wake-up call Hawke had had in a long time. Fenris was not a morning person, preferring to stay in bed until the last possible second and being grumpy about it for at least two hours after. For the elf to wake up first was un-heard of and for him to be in this sort of mood was impossible.

  
Hawke's brief thoughts on the matter left his mind as the pace picked up with a cry from the elf. He looked up at his lover and placed his hands on his narrow hips, taking control of the situation and quickly flipping them over so he could truly take the man below him.

  
Fenris grinned a devilish grin that made Hawke pause. Something was… _wrong._ Fenris didn't grin during their more intimate moments and definitely not like a Blooming Rose whore. He would keep his eyes closed and his mouth would go slack, he would murmur Hawke's name and his frantic hands would search for purchase on skin and in the sheets. Things were wobbly around the edges, almost as if the edges were not really there.

  
The grin continued and Hawke shivered, backing away quickly as the walls wavered and green eyes turned a sickly yellow. Fenris' dark skin lightened to mockery of lavender and obsidian horns sprouted around the demons face. It lay on Hawke's bed, thin hands stroked down its lithe but masculine form. Hawke didn't let his eyes wander below the demons navel. His stomach heaved and he cursed himself. Of course he was in the Fade and Fenris was…somewhere else.

  
"My dear," its voice was deep and rich, burying itself in Hawke's ears and sticking there like honey and wet tar, "I was having so much fun," It groaned as its hand slipped down and Hawke looked away, "Come, Hawke, my flower, let us finish."

  
"No." Hawke clenched his fists and took a few more steps back. He felt _violated._ His back hit the not there wall and he glared at his feet, feeling sick.

  
"I know you were enjoying me," It groaned again, "I can look like anyone you'd like: the elf, the priest, the mage…" It paused, "The _dwarf?_ " It laughed at its own joke and Hawke glowered.

  
"No!"

  
"I can make him forget, make it like the other night never happened. He hates you, you know? He hates what you have become-"

  
"No! I don't want to hear it!" His hands flew to his ears but it wouldn't do any good. The demon was in his head.

  
"-a blood mage. He thinks you're disgusting, just like his master: Danarius.” Desire purred the name, almost as if it enjoyed the thought of the Magister, “Just like every other mage who fell to a spirit and brought havoc down on Thedas," It stood and was behind Hawke in a blink, “Your mage friend knows what I mean,” It wrapped its long arms around him and pulling the mage close. Hawke's skin prickled as he felt the demons member press against him, "But I can change all of that. You'll wake up and he'll be like he was before you betrayed him." The demon purred and let its hands explore Hawke's torso.

  
"I…I don't-"

 

* * *

 

 

  
Fenris shuffled deeper into the duvet, burying his face deep beneath the pillows and frowning at the grunts and jerky movements beside him.  
"Hawke…please just two more-"

  
_Hawke?_ That wasn't right, he distinctly remembered going to sleep in one of the guest rooms, thoroughly irritated and upset with the mage. He glared into the darkness the pillow provided him, mentally taking stock of the clothes he still wore in case Hawke had lost his mind last night and decided to slip further into becoming a monster.

  
The thrashing and groaning continued and Fenris slowly and carefully sat up, the duvet pooling around his hips and looked toward the mage.  
He was sweating, his bare chest glistening in the ruddy glow the dying embers cast for the hearth. His hair was flat against his wet forehead and his face was contorted into near panic even though his amber eyes remained tightly shut. His hands gripped the sheets as he tensed against something. _A nightmare?_ Fenris frowned and wondered about what to do, should he wake him or let him ride it out?

  
"…Fen…" Hawke's voice was filled with sleep and pain and worry, "Fenris!"

  
The elf raised his hand and slapped the mage across his cheeks, one on each side for good measure. Probably not the gentlest way to wake someone, but he was still angry and confused as to why he was in the blood mage's bed in the first place. It felt good to take out some of his frustrations.  
Hawke didn't wake and Fenris rolled his eyes, exasperated. What to do now? The thrashing continued so Fenris did what any good friend/lover would do in this situation. He pinched Hawke on the nipple and twisted it hard.

  
The sensitive nubs abuse sent a jolt through Hawke and he sat up, slapping the elf's hand away and rubbing it with a frown, "What the hell, Fenris!?"

  
"You woke me up and you were having a nightmare."

  
Hawke rubbed his face, "Yeah, I can feel that," he fell back onto his pillow, and arm flopping over his eyes, "I'm sorry."

  
Fenris' brow furrowed, "It's fine, I'll just go back to my room and sleep." He went to stand only for his arm to grasped just below the elbow.

  
"No! Please, I'm not sorry for that!"

  
"Then what are you sorry for, Hawke!" His anger had peaked, exhausted from the fighting, the emotional strain, and now being awake in the middle of the night. He yanked his arm away and stood by the dying fire, trying to cling to any comforting warmth it might give.

  
Hawke watched him, his lip pulled between his teeth as he fought around his words, "I guess…I guess I'm sorry for what happened," he winced as his eyes fell from the elfs, "with the Arishok."

  
"You guess?"

  
"Fine! I know, alright!?" his arm fell back to his face, "I'm sorry I used…" he couldn’t say it.

  
Fenris huffed and looked at his mage, torn between walking out and never looking back or taking him in his arms and telling him it would all be okay.

  
Hawke continued, "I was dying, Fenris. I could feel my will giving up, my blood pooling in my shoes. I was so cold," Fenris shuddered even with the warmth of the embers, he didn't want to hear this, he didn’t want to think about Hawke being dead. The confusion in his head was almost too much, _would I be able to kill him?_ "All I was thinking was about my family; Mother, Father, Bethany, and Carver. About how I'm the only one left and how they died and maybe it wouldn't be so bad to join them in the Fade."

  
"Hawke-"

  
"LET ME FINISH!" He all but screamed so Fenris stood still and silent, "I heard you and Isabela screaming for me to get up, to fight and live. The silence as the Arishok's ax was raised and its whistle as it began to fall. Began to end me," He took a shuddering breath, "and then I heard him…them. My family, telling me I could win if I let them step in, they were proud of me and I could rest. Maker, I was so tired and too scared to die, so I let them. I felt them take over me, the demons, felt them move me away from the axe and finish the fight. And then I looked at you, you looked so disgusted with me, and in the Hanged Man…maybe I should have let the Arishok kill me." Fenris watched him as he took a shuddering breath, watched a tear fall onto the satin pillow beneath his raven hair.

  
He didn't know what to do, hearing how he felt and why he did what he did. Why he fell to blood magic, "Hawke, you-"

  
"I wish I could take it back. I wish I could just go back and never get involved with the Qunari. I should have taken my chances with the Blight, became a Grey Warden like my cousin. At least _she_  died with glory. When I die, all I'll be is an apostate blood mage who started a war with the Qun and the Free Marches."  
He was falling into hysterics but still Fenris watched and listened, waiting for the opportunity to tell Hawke how he felt.  
"And now all I hear is the demons. Whispering in the back of my mind, telling me they can turn back time. Make everything like it was before, when we would just run around solving smaller problems. But I know they can't, they can't change what has happened." He paused and the minutes ticked by, the silence only broken by the dying cracklings of the fire and the heavy breathing of Hawke as he calmed himself, “Oh, Maker, Fenris, the power. I can still feel it at the tips of my fingers, hear it snapping like static in my hair. All I would have to do is open a vein to have access to it.”

  
Fenris thought about Merrill then, her completely innocent demeanour marred by the scaring along the backs of her hands and arms. The way she always kept them covered when they were not in battle. The way she hid herself away to play with the demons and that damned mirror.  
Is that what Hawke would do? Hide himself away to frolic with forces beyond his control? And what would Fenris do? Stay by his side, watch him descend into this madness; see him wither away as he offered more of himself to more and more demons? _No._

  
"Hawke?" The mage glanced out from beneath his arm, those amber eyes glistening with hurt. Fenris steeled himself and nodded his head at his decision, "I don't know what to say that will make this better but I am here."

  
"You-"

  
"I am not happy with your choice and I doubt I can fully understand why you did it. You didn't want to die, you were not, _are not,_ ready to leave this place and I can see that," he took a breath, moving sit on the edge of the bed, "If you'd have died, I would've died with you. I would have gone after the Arishok and been overwhelmed by his _Antam_. But I wouldn't have been here without you," he reached and gripped Hawke's hand, holding it as though his life depended on the mage, "They would've killed us all because all of us would have fought for you if it had come to it. I will not be here without you."

  
He felt Hawke pull his hand to his lips and kiss his knuckles, the worn and scarred skin tingled beneath his touch. He frowned and pulled his hand away, not missing the hurt look on Hawke’s face.

  
"Hawke," he looked at the mage dead in the eyes, "Swear to me that this won't happen again, swear to me that you will never lend yourself to demons."

  
Hawke nodded furiously wanting his elf to look at him like he did only a few days ago, "Never again! Never, I swear it." The tears were streaming out of his eyes, “Please, Fenris, I cannot be without you.”

  
Fenris nodded and sat on the edge of the bed, facing Hawke as the mage watched him warily, “You have to understand, it is going to take me some time to come to terms with what happened. I can’t ignore it and I can’t just go back to how we were.”

  
Hawke grew pale and looked down at his hands that had woven into the bed sheets, “Okay.”

  
“So, how did I end up in here?”

  
"You were sleepwalking." A tentative grin was on the mage’s face, watching the elf’s eyes as they glistened in the slowly growing light as dawn approached.

  
Fenris snorted, "No I wasn't."

  
"You were." He could hear the beginnings of laughter in Hawke’s chest.

  
“You’re a terrible liar.”

  
Hawke stood and began getting ready for the day, mindful of the still tender foot and arm, though the healing magic had sped their recovery nicely, “Come on, better get breakfast underway.”

  
Fenris nodded and followed him out of the room, feeling slightly better about the situation and mindful of the weeks ahead of them where the trust would have to be built anew.


End file.
